


Nothing Compares to You

by TrekBec82



Series: Ineffable Husbands [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Post-Canon, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekBec82/pseuds/TrekBec82
Summary: A fortnight after the little-apocalypse-that-couldn't, Aziraphale visits Crowley's flat to see Little Eden, and confesses an old secret. Important conversations are had, with consequences that will change the nature of their relationship once more.





	Nothing Compares to You

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this a matter of hours after posting parts one and two, and it's without a doubt my favourite so far.
> 
> Once again special thanks to my lovely friend and editor, Rachel. You can find her on Tumblr as [WritKit](http://writkit.tumblr.com).
> 
> The title is from Sinéad O'Connor's [Nothing Compares 2 U](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0-EF60neguk), which Crowley is changing the lyrics to in the opening lines of the story.
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on Tumblr - where I share loads of Good Omens posts and a sprinkling of other things - you can do so at [TrekBec82](http://trekbec82.tumblr.com/).

🎶 _It's been seven hours and 15 days. Since you gave your love to me._ 🎶

Crowley was listening to a compilation of sappy 90s pop music and mentally rewriting lyrics again. He’d been rewriting every song he’d heard for - oddly enough - 15 days, 7 hours, and around 12 or 13 minutes - give or take 30 seconds. He was **_IN LOVE_** (written in the BIGGEST fuck-off font manageable, bold and italics essential) and miracle of miracles (angelic, demonic, or otherwise - Crowley really didn’t care), Aziraphale loved him back. The Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, loved the demon Crowley. That right there should have been enough to discorporate Crowley on the spot, but somehow he was still breathing (he didn’t really need to, but it felt nice), his heart was still beating (also non-essential, but you get used to these things after 6 millennia), and he was still alive. Felt more alive than at any moment since Heaven had punted him off a cloud, in fact. Must have been something to do with that bit of Aziraphale’s soul residing within him.

Aziraphale was coming to his flat this afternoon. They’d spent an inordinate amount of time at the bookshop lately; drinking wine, listening to records, scaring away anyone foolish enough to think they could actually buy a book (what a ridiculous concept!). Crowley had visited his flat a handful of times to water and feed the plants, but there had been no thinly-veiled threats hissed at the greenery. No screaming, no shouting, no menacing. There had been whoops and cheers and delighted laughter instead - a change so abrupt that the plants didn’t know what to make of it. Those that Adam had added were buoyed by the cheerful presence so willing to give them the TLC they needed to thrive - whether knowing it or not. Those which remembered their Master’s former behaviour wondered whether this was a new scare tactic.

The doorbell rang - silly Angel, no need for that - and Crowley raced to the door like a child to the tree on Christmas morning. Aziraphale had arrived! (Santa couldn’t have delivered a better present.)  
“About TIME, Angel!” he said, as his better half (or worse half, depending on who won the argument that day) crossed the threshold.  
Aziraphale let out a little huff. “I’m sorry I’m late, my love. I had another visit from Mrs. Ryan, wanting to ‘borrow a cup of sugar’ - like she ever returns it!”  
“Mrs. Ryan?”  
“Yes, dear. From the ‘naughty’ bookshop next door. I've half a mind to tell her I own more risque books than she does, but she’d probably want to borrow _THEM_, too!”  
“How scandalous!”  
“The only thing scandalous about Mrs. Ryan are the prices she charges. How she stays in business I’ll never know.”  
“Maybe she’s like you - doesn’t actually care about making money, just loves the books?”  
“Maybe, but she can’t miracle money to pay for things like I can, so I rather doubt it.”

Crowley frowned slightly then shrugged his shoulders. What did he care how Mrs. Ryan stayed in business? As long as she never wanted more from Aziraphale than a cup of sugar here, an egg there, it was of no consequence to him. Though perhaps he should take an interest in the neighbours, given how much time he was now spending at the bookshop. What if they were taking advantage of his angel? He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Aziraphale was perfectly capable of looking after himself. Usually. Unless food was involved. Or Nazis. Who’d have thought THEY’D be a concern again in this day and age? Oh, it was simply no good. He’d just have to make sure Aziraphale was safe, and that was all there was to it.

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and towed him to the garden they’d dubbed Little Eden. “Come and see the new plants, Angel!”  
Aziraphale looked around the garden that had been a room of Crowley’s Mayfair flat prior to Adam bestowing his gifts upon the two of them. “It’s lovely my dear, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to linger too long, if you want them to go on living.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, Crowley dear, there’s a reason I was guarding the GATE of Eden, not tending the Garden itself.”  
“You’ve never told me this before. What’s the reason?”  
“I kill any plant I touch. I have the brownest thumb of any angel God ever made. She was most upset when I ‘murdered’ her night-blooming jasmine.”  
“You ‘murdered’ jasmine?” Crowley asked, incredulous.  
“Of course I didn’t murder it, I merely talked to it, and ran one finger over a petal. The poor thing wilted and died within seconds.”  
“Jasmine is so hardy it’s practically a weed, Aziraphale. What on Earth did you say to it?”  
“I told it how lovely it was.”  
“Aaaaand?”  
“And nothing. It shriveled up, turned brown, and practically fell out of the ground.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale like he’d grown three extra heads. “It fell out of the ground? How do PLANTS fall out of the GROUND?”  
Aziraphale scrunched up his face in thought for a moment, then said “well, you know how if there’s a very bad storm and a tree falls, with the roots coming up out of the ground, like it’s laying on its side? It was a bit like that, only without the storm.”  
“So basically YOU were the storm?”  
“I suppose so, yes. I felt absolutely wretched, so when God gave me the sword and told me to guard the gate instead it was quite a relief, really.”  
“But you hate being a soldier!”  
“I hated disappointing Her more.”  
“Right, well, don’t talk to my plants, don’t touch my plants, don’t go near my plants. I don’t want the rare ones Adam gave me keeling over!”  
“I’m sorry, my love. I know how much you wanted to share Little Eden with me.”  
“It’s alright Angel, we can go and watch Gardening Australia on the TV instead.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, dear,” Aziraphale said.  
“Ask me what?” Crowley queried.  
“Why do you watch Gardening Australia?”  
“I watch lots of gardening shows. They’re different all over the world - like the plants are - and Gardening Australia has been going for 30 years. It’s won awards, Angel - it’s one of the best gardening shows humanity’s ever made.”  
“Well that’s good I suppose, but you don’t need gardening tips from a TV show.”  
“No, but it’s nice to see some humans care about the plants as much as I do, Angel.”  
“Careful dear, yours will hear you.”  
“I hope they do. I’ve realised these past couple of weeks that I’ve been taking my bad moods out on them for years, and they’re actually terrified of me. I never wanted them to be terrified, I wanted them to make me proud...like I could never make Her proud.”

“Oh, Crowley. You really are a softy at heart, aren’t you?” said Aziraphale affectionately.  
“That’s entirely your fault, you know,” Crowley teased.  
“MY fault?! How is you being soft MY fault?”  
“Loving you, you dope. Can’t be hard and mean all the way through when you’re in love. It’s just not possible. Believe me, I tried.”  
“Well then I take full responsibility, and gladly!”  
“Speaking of taking responsibility for things, are you absolutely certain it was your fault the jasmine died?”  
“God seemed certain of it. I didn’t like to argue with Her when She was already so upset. Why do you ask?”  
“I’m just thinking. When we were in the meadow, you were touching lots of plants with a LOT more than just your fingertip, and the only thing that suffered at all was the grass we flattened. What if I wasn’t the only demon in Eden? What if another demon killed the jasmine, and let you take the blame?”

“Do you really think that’s possible?” asked Aziraphale hopefully.  
“It’s not a theory I’m willing to test on my own plants just yet, but we could go to St James’ Park and find out there,” said Crowley.  
“We can feed the ducks, too!” Aziraphale said enthusiastically.  
“Sure thing Angel. You want to go now?”  
“Yes please. The sooner we test your theory, the sooner I can take a better look around Little Eden - if you’re right, of course.”  
“Alright, just let me grab the bread.”  
“Bread is bad for ducks though - remember what Anathema told us?”  
“I’ve miracled the bread so it has the nutrients they need, Angel. I’ve been throwing bread to ducks this long, I’m not switching to oats now. Besides, the ducks EXPECT bread.”  
“Softy.”  
“Love you.”  
“I love you too.”

They strolled arm-in-arm to St James’ Park, where Aziraphale brushed his fingertips over each plant they walked past. None died, or wilted, or gained so much as a blemish. If anything they reached out to him as he continued on, hoping for another gentle caress from the loving being they’d encountered over so many years, but never made contact with until now. When the angel and demon reached the pond, the ducks came gliding over - eager for the feed they were certain to receive. Crowley handed a slice of bread to Aziraphale, then broke up his own into pieces that would minimise fights. When the bread ran out they continued their gentle amble through the park, Aziraphale once again touching each plant he passed, with the same positive results.

“OK Angel, we’ve established that you can touch plants without killing them, let’s try talking to them," Crowley suggested.  
“Which plant do you think I should talk to?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly.  
“Something small - we don’t want to risk an oak just yet.”  
“Not jasmine!”  
“No, Angel, we won’t try jasmine until we’re confident you won’t kill it. Though a creeper is a good idea. How about Spanish Flag?”  
“Spanish Flag?”  
“It’s also called Firecracker Vine. There’s some just over here.” Crowley pointed to a plant climbing on a decorative trellis, with flowers that clearly gave rise to the latter name.  
“Do you think it will be OK?”  
“Try touching it first, and if that goes over alright, then talk to it. If anything happens, I’m right here, I can miracle it better.”  
“Alright…” Aziraphale reached out, and gently stroked a leaf of the vine.

The tendril attached to the leaf grew a few centimetres, and Aziraphale looked at Crowley with a gasp.  
“Try talking to it,” he encouraged.  
“You’re a lovely plant,” Aziraphale whispered, as he stroked the leaf again.  
The tendril grew longer still, clearly reaching for Aziraphale’s outstretched hand.  
Aziraphale’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Your flowers are such beautiful colours.”  
More buds instantly grew on the vine, and the buds that were already there opened up.  
“Do you like me talking to you?” Aziraphale asked the vine.  
Several tendrils unhooked themselves from the trellis, reaching for the angel.  
“Oh goodness, please don’t fall over!”  
Some of the tendrils hooked back into the trellis, while the remainder grew and reached for Aziraphale.  
Aziraphale looked at Crowley in shock. “It likes me!”  
“It loves you, Angel. I knew you weren't a brown thumb - nobody with as much love inside them as you could be.”  
“I have to go home now, pretty Firecracker. You stay on your trellis and keep growing, OK?”  
The tendrils waved as though saying farewell to their new friend.

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand and practically skipped all the way back to Mayfair. On arrival he ran up the stairs two at a time, more eager to visit Little Eden than he’d ever been in the big one. He twirled into the garden with a flourish, then stopped to inhale deeply. Aziraphale walked slowly from plant to plant, grinning ever more broadly as his gentle caresses were met with outstretched branches, and his loving words yielded growth and blooms. He paid special attention to Adam’s additions first, then went back to Crowley. Tangling their fingers together, Aziraphale visited each of Crowley’s older plants, towing the demon along with him. The angel gently persuaded the plants to give Crowley a chance to earn their forgiveness, and Crowley assured them he was never mad at them, he was mad at God and himself. One particularly feisty palm smacked Crowley on the cheek with a large green leaf, which he took with good grace.

“Well then, Angel, it seems I was right,” Crowley said, as they left the garden some time later.  
“It seems God was wrong. AGAIN!” Aziraphale replied.  
“Again?”  
“Yes, again. She was wrong to expel you from Heaven, AND wrong about me being a brown thumb.”  
“AZIRAPHALE!” came a voice neither of them had expected to hear, and a bright light neither of them had expected to see.  
“God?” asked Aziraphale.  
“YES, AZIRAPHALE, GOD! YOU SAY I WAS WRONG ABOUT CROWLEY. YOU SAY I WAS WRONG ABOUT YOU. WHAT ELSE DO YOU BELIEVE I WAS WRONG ABOUT?”  
“Um...do You really want to know?” Aziraphale asked, sounding scared of what the answer might be.  
“YES, I REALLY WANT TO KNOW!”  
“What will happen to me if You don’t like what I have to say?”  
“YOU WILL HAVE TO LIVE ON EARTH FOREVER, AZIRAPHALE.”  
Aziraphale shared a look with Crowley, then plunged into a tirade he’d clearly been thinking about for some time.

“Well, for starters I think You were wrong to tell Adam and Eve not to eat from the tree of knowledge. I think You were wrong to kick them out of Eden. I think You were wrong to kick Crowley out of Heaven, obviously, and quite frankly it wouldn’t surprise me if some of the other demons didn’t deserve it either. I think You’re wrong to expect us to blindly follow orders without question. I think You were wrong to demote Michael and promote Gabriel. I think You’re wrong to trust Gabriel at all, honestly. I think You’re wrong to blame demons for all the bad things humans do…”

“THAT WILL BE QUITE ENOUGH, THANK YOU, AZIRAPHALE!”

“No, I don’t think it will,” Aziraphale interrupted. “You were wrong about me being a brown thumb, You’re wrong to threaten me with eternity on Earth, and You’re wrong to come into Crowley’s home uninvited, and judge me for calling it like I see it. I’m done. I don’t want Heaven anymore! Quite frankly I’m much happier here on Earth with Crowley than I ever was up there with that lot of sanctimonious jerks, or You! I QUIT!” These last words thundered with the full force of an enraged angel tapping into his not insignificant power.

“YOU...WHAT?” God asked, either not understanding or believing what She was hearing.  
“I quit,” Aziraphale repeated, much more calmly. “I quit Heaven, and You, and being a Principality. I will defend Earth and its people because I love THEM, not for Your sake. Not any longer. Strip me of my powers if you will - I would rather live as a free and ordinary Man than as the servant of a God who will not listen to constructive criticism. I only ask that if You choose to do so, You make Crowley human also.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale with astonishment and wonder writ large across his face. He’d always known on some level that Aziraphale wasn’t merely meek and mild, and was perfectly capable of being terrifying when the occasion called for it, but the occasion had so rarely called for it over the years that seeing him like this - aimed at God Herself, no less - added a new layer of respect and awe to his feelings for the angel.

After a silence that was positively deafening, God responded.  
“AZIRAPHALE. FORMER PRINCIPALITY. FORMER GUARDIAN OF THE EASTERN GATE OF EDEN. YOU ARE HEREBY SENTENCED TO ETERNITY ON EARTH. YOU SHALL NOT LOSE YOUR ANGELIC POWERS, ON THE CONDITION THAT YOU USE THEM TO AID HUMANITY, AND CARE FOR THE EARTH. SHOULD YOU FAIL TO DO SO, YOU WILL BECOME A MORTAL MAN.”

She then continued, “CROWLEY. FORMER ARCHANGEL OF HEAVEN. FORMER DEMON OF HELL. YOU ALSO ARE SENTENCED TO ETERNITY ON EARTH. YOUR ANGELIC POWERS ARE HEREBY RESTORED, UNDER THE SAME CONDITIONS. YOU MUST WORK TO AID HUMANITY. YOU MUST WORK TO PRESERVE THE EARTH. FAIL TO DO SO, AND YOU TOO SHALL BECOME MORTAL.”

“YOU ARE BOTH HEREBY GIVEN A NEW RANK. YOU SHALL HENCEFORTH BE KNOWN AS…”

“Excuse me, but I think WE should be the ones who choose a name for this ‘new rank’ you're drafting us into, given that WE are the ones who chose Earth over Heaven, Hell, and You!” Aziraphale interrupted again.

“VERY WELL, AZIRAPHALE. WHAT NAME DO YOU CHOOSE FOR YOURSELVES?”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale wide-eyed. This assertive side of him was really quite a turn-on. “Do you have a name in mind, Angel?” he asked.  
“I’m not an angel anymore, Crowley - you’ll have to find a new term of endearment to use. But yes, I think I do have a name for us. How do you feel about ‘Caretakers’?”  
“Caretakers,” Crowley repeated, trying it out for size. “I think ‘Caretakers’ sounds perfect.”  
“That’s settled then. We’re Caretakers.”

“CARETAKERS. TAKE CARE OF HUMANITY. TAKE CARE OF THE EARTH. TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER. DO NOT FAIL IN THESE TASKS. YOU KNOW THE CONSEQUENCES IF YOU DO.”

“Yes, we do. Now if you’ll please excuse us, we’d like some peace and quiet. I believe we were about to watch Gardening Australia,” Aziraphale retorted.  
There was a sound highly reminiscent of a mother sighing in exasperation, and the light vanished.

“Angel, that was…” Crowley began.  
“Not an angel, remember? I’m a Caretaker now.” Aziraphale teased.  
“Sorry, force of habit. Might take me a while to adjust, darling. Dearest? Sweetheart? Honey?”  
“All good options.”  
“Hang on a sec though. She said you were keeping your Angelic powers. That MY angelic powers had been restored. That means we’re BOTH Angels now. She created a new rank OF angel, she didn’t stop you being one. So I can still call you Angel, Angel.”  
“Your Angelic powers were restored.”  
“That’s what I just said, Angel.”  
“Crowley, you’re an angel.”  
“Yes, thank you Captain Obvious.”  
“You’re not a demon, Crowley.”  
“Again, I know this. I’m not concussed.”  
“Can we go up to the roof?” Aziraphale asked.  
“Uh, yeah, we can, but do you really want to go up there now? It’s not sunset for another couple of hours.”  
“I don’t want to watch the sunset. I have another reason.”  
“Alright then, let’s go up to the roof.”

They took the stairs to the top of Crowley’s building, and went out onto the roof.  
“Open your wings, please dear,” Aziraphale said.  
“What, why?” Crowley asked.  
“Just humour me, please.”  
“Fine, but I want you to know I think you’re being really weird.”  
Crowley brought his wings out of the ether onto the mortal plain, opening them wide.  
“Happy now, Angel?” he asked.  
“Look at them, Crowley.”  
“Seen my wings a thousand times, don’t really need to look at them again today.”  
“Yes, you really do my love. Look!”  
Crowley looked at his wings, and gasped. They were no longer pure black, but multihued - amethyst, sapphire, ruby, emerald, and onyx - rich gemstone colours, and glossy as they hadn’t been since his Fall.

Eyes wide, Crowley said, “OK, your turn.”  
“My turn?” Aziraphale asked.  
“Yep. Get ‘em out, Angel,” Crowley confirmed.  
“Alright then, I will.”  
Aziraphale brought his wings onto the mortal plain and spread them wide as Crowley had done, then turned his head to look, and smiled.  
“You don’t seem surprised,” Crowley said.  
“I’ve always liked pastels,” said Aziraphale.  
Where Crowley’s wings were dark, Aziraphale’s were pale - topaz, turquoise, tanzanite, peridot and citrine.

God had granted Her new rank of angels - the Caretakers - fresh wings to signify Her renewed favour, and as a reminder of an earlier promise. She would test them repeatedly - but not to destruction. It caused Crowley to hope, as he had not hoped in 6000 years - that perhaps things just MIGHT be alright. Heaven and Hell couldn’t be trusted, that much he was sure of, but God might be on their side, when it came to the eventual Big One. Maybe. Possibly. Maybes and mights and possibilities were better than nothing though - especially where God was concerned - so there really was at least SOME hope to be had.

The two Caretakers stood gazing at each other’s wings, looking at the glorious riot of colour where there had been plain white and black only a fortnight earlier in Tadfield. Aziraphale was the first to stretch out a hand.  
“May I stroke them?” he asked.  
“If I can stroke yours,” Crowley answered.  
Aziraphale nodded, smiling, and stepped closer. Crowley stretched out his hand, and also took a step closer, adjusting his wings as he did so. They each ran gentle fingers over the other’s wings, and both closed their eyes in pleasure at the sensation. When they reopened them, Aziraphale’s widened in surprise, as Crowley’s glasses had slipped down his nose.

“What is it?” Crowley asked.  
“Your eyes.” Aziraphale said.  
“What about them?”  
“They’ve changed too, my love.”  
“What? Changed how?”  
“They’re golden.”  
“They’ve been yellow for millennia Angel, that’s not new.”  
“No, Crowley, not yellow. Golden. Like my ring.”  
Aziraphale held his hand up between them, indicating the ring on his pinkie.  
“Are they still snake-eyes?” Crowley wondered aloud.  
“Yes, but they’re even more beautiful than before,” Aziriphale told him, removing the sunglasses and tucking them carefully into a pocket.  
“They weren’t beautiful before.”  
“Yes they were - I've always thought so. Now though...they’re stunning, Crowley. Absolutely stunning.”

Crowley's forehead creased as he came to a rather dramatic realisation.  
Aziraphale smiled, having drawn the same conclusion earlier. He hadn't yet given voice to it, not wanting to overwhelm the former demon.  
"I'm an angel."  
Aziraphale continued to smile serenely.  
"I'm an angel, Angel. I can walk on sanctified ground. I can touch holy water safely. I can visit cathedrals without hopping around like a bloody kangaroo!" Crowley exclaimed excitedly.  
"Yes, I imagine you can, my love."

"Let's go to France! We can visit Notre Dame, and the Louvre, and have crêpes for lunch - and I can take you to the Jules Verne restaurant at the Eiffel Tower for dinner!"  
"And you can hold my hand the entire time, to keep me out of trouble," Aziraphale added.  
"Well, naturally. I already promised to do that, after all."  
"How would you like to get there, my darling?"  
"Could we take the Bentley?" Crowley asked.  
"Yes, if we take the Eurotunnel Le Shuttle train through the Chunnel."  
"And how is it that you already know that, Angel?"  
"I may have made enquiries last week."  
"Is that so?"  
"Well, we had already said we might go, after thanking Adam."  
"So you made enquiries about taking the Bentley on a train?"  
"Well, I know how attached you are, and I'm growing fond of it at last, so I figured we might take it with us," Aziraphale explained.

"I just hope God doesn't smite us for shirking our new responsibilities," Crowley worried.  
"Ah, but one of those responsibilities is to take care of each other. I think a little getaway to Paris falls under that purview, don't you?"  
"You would have made a fantastic demon, the way you find loopholes, and tempt people - especially me."  
"Thank you, my dear. So, where shall we stay - the Hôtel Plaza Athénée, or the Ritz?"  
"Been making hotel enquiries too, Angel?"  
"No, Crowley dear - they're just my favourites."  
"What about Le Meurice, or the Four Seasons George V?"  
"Also stunning hotels. Honestly, I don't mind where we stay, as long as we're together."  
"Let's stay at the Ritz then. Less of a mouthful than any of the others."  
"The Ritz it is! Ooh, this is going to be wonderful, Crowley! Our first holiday as a proper couple."

"Is that what we are now, Angel? A 'proper couple'?" Crowley asked.  
"Well…yes. I thought so. Are we…not?" Aziraphale's brows drew together in concern.  
"We haven't really talked about it. We've declared our love. We've expressed our love, repeatedly. We exchanged parts of our souls without even realising it until Anathema told us about our auras. But we haven't actually defined what our relationship IS now," Crowley said.

Aziraphale thought about this, then said, "Well, we're soul mates, evidently. We're lovers, in both the emotional and physical senses of the word. We're…"  
"Whatever comes out of your mouth next, do not say 'ineffable'," Crowley warned.  
"Well that would be accurate, but no, I was going to say 'partners'...though that's been true for a long time."  
"It has, Angel. Alright, think of it this way. If you were introducing me to an old friend of yours I'd never met before - your favourite baker, perhaps - how would you introduce me?"  
"Hmm. I might say 'this is my beloved, Crowley' - though why I'd be introducing you to my favourite baker when you so rarely eat, I don't know. My tailor on the other hand…"  
"Your beloved?" Crowley interrupted.  
"Well, yes. You are beloved."  
Crowley rolled the word around in his mouth a few times, like tasting a new wine. "Beloved."  
"Yes…?"  
"I think I like that. I like it a lot, actually."  
"So we're…beloved?" Aziraphale asked.  
"We are. I love you, Angel."  
"As I love you, my beloved darling."

This settled, they resumed stroking each other’s wings, smiling contentedly. As the delicate stroking turned to lingering caresses, they drew closer, each arm not outstretched now seeking the other’s waist, their lips meeting in a kiss that began gently, and gradually intensified. Hands sought each other’s buttons, undoing Aziraphale’s coat and waistcoat, Crowley’s jacket and shirt. They realised simultaneously the problem with removing clothing with wings out, and snapped their fingers to send their respective upper garments to Crowley’s flat, where they draped themselves over a chair. Their hands then sought belts, buttons, and zippers, so that Aziraphale’s comfortable trousers and Crowley’s skinny jeans could be subtracted more traditionally. Aziraphale stepped lightly out of his, while Crowley performed an awkward dance reminiscent of his walk down the aisle to save the angel from a trio of Nazis in WWII, getting out of them with a final kick that sent them near the edge of the roof.

They both glanced down to see what underwear the other was wearing, as it had become a running joke between them. Aziraphale had his usual white boxer briefs, patterned this time with snakes in a variety of sizes and colours. Crowley on the other hand was wearing black briefs, with a single green leaf printed strategically on the front. After sharing a grin at the other’s choice they resumed kissing, hands now roaming over the other’s body - tenderly fondling wings, arms, and shoulders, then more ardently chests, backs, waists and hips. WIthout pausing the kiss they pushed their underwear down, and took a step to one side to be rid of them. Each could feel the other’s Effort pressing against soft tender skin, becoming more aroused with each passing moment. They both took hold of the other’s Effort, arms wrapped about each other’s waist, wings outstretched for balance. Their movements became synchronised, increasing in speed and intensity, their breaths becoming ragged, no longer so much kissing as panting into the other’s open mouth, until with low moans they both reached their climax, shuddering against each other with spasms that lingered far longer than they had any right to.

They held each other close as they came down from the intoxicating heights of their shared passion, nuzzling at necks, licking sweat from temples, whispering sweet nothings into the shells of ears, then kissing lips once more, savouring the delicate flavours of mouths that had become almost as familiar as their own. The sun began to set as they stood embracing, warm wings gently tucked around them to prevent the rising breeze from becoming uncomfortably cool on bare skin. As the moon began its ascent their wings took on new hues not visible in daylight - Crowley’s edged with copper and bronze, Aziraphale’s with silver and gold. They marvelled at these changes, gazing at the gorgeous colouring each had in their feathers, looking with wonder at the gifts they had received along with their new burden of responsibility as Caretakers.

When the moon had climbed well into the sky, they wordlessly gathered their discarded clothing, and miracled themselves to Crowley’s bedroom, so as to avoid the need for putting away their wings. They lay on the bed facing one another, legs tangled and arms around each other, caressing cheeks, blinking slowly at each other with contented smiles on their faces.  
“I love you, Angel,” said Crowley.  
“I love you too,” said Aziraphale.  
They drifted off to sleep together, feeling safe, and loved, and whole.


End file.
